


A Restless Night

by YellowPencils



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6308224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowPencils/pseuds/YellowPencils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humphrey has trouble getting to sleep one night, then wakes up to a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Restless Night

It took Humphrey a while to fall asleep, still not totally used to the island's heat. They had had a busy few days at work and they were all still adjusting to the new team. He missed Camille in particular, however good the rest of them were, they just weren't her.

Once he finally did manage to get to sleep, he dreamed about her, as he did all too often. He was walking down the beach in his best - and brightest - shirt, his shoes off, the waves running over his feet, a slight breeze in the air. Hearing splashing behind him, he turned to see Camille running through the shallow water towards him, a wide smile on her face. She moved closer and closer, her arms held out, and he stood waiting for her, his own arms reaching towards her automatically.

When there were almost close enough to touch, Humphrey blinked and, suddenly, she was gone.

It was not the first time that he had had that particular dream, and it did not take a genius, or even a detective, to know why.

Just when he had been trying to work up enough courage to say something about his feelings, she had left.

After she had been gone a couple of weeks, Humphrey had finally plucked up enough courage to e-mail her. It had taken him four hours, and almost an entire bottle of wine, to write it, choosing each word carefully, wanting to get the tone just right. Feeling particularly brave - or stupid - Humphrey had told Camille that he wished he had got to know her better, wondering if she would pick up on what he was hinting at.

By the time morning arrived, a sober Humphrey was deeply regretting his actions, desperately hoping that he had sent the e-mail to the wrong address, or it had somehow got lost in cyberspace.

No such luck.

When he opened his e-mails to find her name sitting at the top of his inbox, he had found it difficult to breathe for a moment, his hand shaking as he clicked on it, hardly daring to read her response.

Amongst some general information about how she was adjusting, Camille had acknowledged his statement about wanting to get to know her better, saying that she felt the same way. Something about the way she had worded it gave him the impression that she had understood exactly what he had meant and did, indeed, share those feelings.

In a way, that made him feel worse than if there had been no chance at all.

Since then, Humphrey had done his best to concentrate on other things. Work took up most of his time, of course, and he spent many evenings at Catherine's with the others, although that meant a conversation about Camille was somewhat inevitable, and sometimes just too painful.

Tonight, after Camille had faded from his dream, Humphrey woke up, unsettled. He got up for a glass of water and had a quick chat with Harry, who was running up and down the kitchen counter, watching him carefully. With a sigh, he put the empty glass in the sink and got back into bed, tossing and turning for a while.

This time, Humphrey fell asleep rather quickly, dreamless except for an occasional picture of Camille sitting at her desk, rolling her eyes as he tried to find a pencil or with a smirk on her face as she pretended to like a fancy new shirt of his.

As morning moved closer, Humphrey kept his eyes closed tightly against the morning sun making its way through the windows. He jumped slightly as he felt something brush across his hand.

"Go away, Harry," he muttered.

He felt the brush across his hand again.

"It's too early. I'll play with you later. Go find a fly or something," Humphrey said, still only half awake.

"Charming," came a voice from next to him on the bed.

Humphrey shot upright, wondering whether he was still dreaming. Whatever was brushing his arm was now moving further up his arm, stroking it.

Opening his eyes, he saw something that couldn't possibly be true. He blinked hard, then again, but when he opened his eyes he was still looking at the same thing, so he rubbed his eyes with his free hand instead.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" the vision before him asked.

Humphrey stared, confused, then reached his free hand out and poked the back of the hand that was rubbing his arm.

"Ouch!" the woman said, although she was smiling.

Humphrey poked her hand a bit harder, just to be sure.

 _"Oi!"_ she laughed, "Stop it!"

"Wh...are...is...are you really here?" he spluttered.

"Of course I am...did you _seriously_ think I was Harry?"

"It seemed like the most logical explanation."

Camille smiled at him, somewhere between amusement and fond resignation.

Humphrey shuffled backwards, suddenly realising where they were, "You're in my bed."

"Technically I'm _on_ your bed."

He realised that she was telling the truth. While he was underneath the blanket, Camille had just climbed on top of it, in crumpled shorts and a vest top. Against the wall behind her stood a large suitcase.

"Did you come here straight from the airport?" he asked.

"Yep," she nodded.

"I'm surprised Catherine let you get away with that."

"She, um, doesn't actually know I'm here yet," Camille admitted.

"Why not?" Humphrey paused, "Hang on, I'm confused. What are you even doing back here?"

"The job didn't exactly work out. It just...wasn't for me. So I spoke to the Commissioner and he agreed to have me back. Apparently he was thinking of advertising for an extra detective anyway."

"You mean you're _back_ back? _Properly_ back?"

"For good," she nodded a confirmation.

Humphrey couldn't prevent the grin from spreading across his face, looking down shyly.

"Well. That is...excellent news," he said, clearing his throat, "You know, for the, um, station...and your mother will be thrilled, of course..."

Camille moved her hand down his arm to hand, squeezing it, looking at him expectantly.

"You haven't asked what I'm doing here," she said teasingly.

"You just told me," he replied, confused.

"No. I mean, you haven't asked me what I'm doing _here,_ specifically. In your house."

"I was assuming it was because you'd prefer to disturb my sleep than your mother's."

"Partly!" Camille laughed, "But it was mainly..."

She trailed off, squeezing Humphrey's hand again and leaning forwards. Looking a little concerned, he backed away slowly.

"What...what are you doing?" he moved back a little.

"I was going to kiss you," she said, smiling.

"Now why would you go and do something like that?" Humphrey laughed nervously.

"Because I want to." Camille leaned forward once more, holding Humphrey's gaze defiantly.

This time, he remained where he was. Camille moved in slowly, stopping just before their lips touched. Humphrey covered the last few millimetres, half-expecting her to push him away.

The kiss was gentle, but full of meaning. After a few seconds they both pulled away to catch their breath, staring into each other's eyes.

"I missed you," Humphrey whispered.

"I missed you, too," Camille whispered back.

They kissed again, deeper this time, longer. Then they pulled back from each other and laid down next to each other. Camille curled up against Humphrey's side, he placed one arm around her and his other hand entwined with hers.

Humphrey could hardly believe that this was really happening, kissing the top of her head, drawing circles on her skin with the arm around her shoulders.

"Don't get too comfortable," Camille whispered after a few minutes, "We have to go to work soon."

"Yes. I suppose we do," he said, smiling into her hair.


End file.
